Sleight of Hand
by Jennyyy
Summary: episode tag to series 1 epsidode 2- my take on what happened after D'artagnan killed Vadim. Lots of whump! First fanfiction so I would really appreciate pointers, hoping to upload a chapter a day! Thank you for reading
1. Chapter 1

Sleight of Hand

D'artagnan spotted Vadim in the distance, walking away with a burning branch: this could be fun. He silently slipped forwards, until he was only a few meters away

"Vadim" he hissed, watching with amusement as Vadim whipped around

"You're full of surprises" said Vadim with surprise: he had expected the boy to perish when the gunpowder blew up.

"Well, I had a good teacher" D'artagnan replied with a wry smile, wondering what Athos would make of that compliment were he here to hear it.

Vadim made a grab for D'artagnan: he slipped back into the shadows, feeling a grim satisfaction for the frustration he was causing Vadim to feel.

He taunted Vadim for a few seconds longer, briefly slipping out of the shaodws before vanishing again, however the game had to end. Vadim had to pay for what he had done.

D'artagnan went to strike Vadim down with his sword, only to find his blade parried away. The two duelled for a few seconds, but it was clear that D'artagnan had the upper hand. Vadim desperately went for a clumsy strike, but D'artagnan stopped it with ease, before feeling his sword enter soft flesh.

Vadim faded out of the light.

D'artangnan stood in shock for a few moments, before hearing the sound of running footsteps coming towards him. He whipped around, expecting another threat, but instead was immensely relived to see Athos, Aramis and Porthos running towards him. A look akin to relief flashed in Athos' eyes for a moment, before his express shifted back to the emotionless mask he usually held in place.

"So you are alive" Athos said

"I think so?" D'aratgnan replied, a slight question in his tone that Aramis picked up on, his eyes immediately scanning the boy over to make sure he was not seriously injured. A quick examination had him satisfied that D'artangnan was alright, and he focused on the conversation again.

"Vadim?" asked Athos, back to business as soon as he realised d'artagnan was, for now, alright.

"Wounded" replied D'artagnan "badly. He can't have got far"

The four men ran in the direction they believed Vadim to have gone, catching up with him just outside the tunnels. It was clear he was in a bad way.

"I should have strangled you in the Chatelet, saved myself a lot of trouble" gasped Vadim as he fell to the ground.

"Why didn't you?" D'artagnan demanded- he had to know why he was still alive

"For the fun of it- it was a good trick" whispered Vadim "Should've worked" he muttered as his head hit the ground. His face grew lax, and his hand opened, revealing the coin that had become so significant in this mission.

"Nearly did"- the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. It was only as D'artagnan straightened up that he released the truth behind his words- he was incredibly lucky to be alive.

D'artagnan stood in shock: he couldn't believe that he was alive just because Vadim had wanted a bit of fun. His first musketeer mission had gone badly wrong- he hadn't prevented the explosion, he hadn't taken Vadim alive, and he would have died if it hadn't of been for Vadim's love of tricks. How was Athos going to react to this shambles? He certainly wouldn't let him go on another mission, or maybe even train with the musketeers anymore. He may as well just lea-

"D'artagnan." Athos' voice brought him out of his miserable thought process.

D'artagnan looked up, expecting a tirade about how badly he had messed up. However, the moment he glanced at Athos' expression, hope bloomed in his mind. It was as emotionless as ever, but D'artagnan thought he glimpsed a flicker of pride in his eyes.

All Athos said was "You did a good job", but it was enough to bring D'artagnan out of his gloom and bring a slight smile to his face.

"As touching as this is, I think it's time we got D'artagnan back to the Garrison- he looks dead on his feet" Aramis said, a slight smirk on his face at the reaction he knew was coming

"I'm fine" D'artagnan replied, frowning at the three musketeers' smirks.

"Why are you laughing?"

"Have you looked at yourself recently?" Porthos grinned "You look like you've been hit by a carriage!"

"Or an explosion" Athos said blandly: the jovial atmosphere vanished. "How close were you to that explosion?"

"It doesn't matter" D'artagnan replied in an exasperated tone "I'm fine". He walked back into the tunnels, trusting that the others would follow.


	2. Determination

The three men strode along behind D'artagnan, bantering with each other about who would win the next card game or secure the next lady, hoping that they could give D'artagnan to think things through before he told them exactly what was bothering him.

At first, D'artagnan listened to the men's banter with amusement, before it faded out and he just concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. He was very tired: it had been several days since he'd had a proper nights' sleep, and being blown off his feet by that explosion had hurt more than he had let on. However, he did not wish to appear weak in front of these men, choosing instead to soldier on and hope the musketeers did not notice.

A sudden dizzy spell caused D'artagnan to halt, his eyes slamming shut as he fought to regain his equilibrium. Such was his confusion, he didn't notice Aramis come up behind him and put a hand on his arm.

"Are you alright?" a concerned Aramis asked, frown lines appearing on his face as he realised how pale the Gascon had become.

The predictable reply of "I'm fine" was all he got back, as D'artagnan forced his eyes open again. "I just had something in my eye is all".

Porthos scoffed at the obvious lie. "Yeah right, and I'm the King of France" he laughed, moving forwards to steady the Gascon.

To his surprise, D'artagnan recoiled away. "No! I can do this myself Porthos. I don't need you help" he hissed as the walls continued to spin and the world rocked beneath his feet.

Porthos went to move forwards again, only to have Athos put a hand on his arm. "He wants to finish this alone. The boy is too stubborn to accept our help, let him keep his pride" he said, watching carefully as D'artagnan nodded at him before turning and continuing, albeit unsteadily, through the tunnel.

Although Athos would never admit it unless incredibly drunk, he was proud of how D'artagnan had handled himself, and was currently handling himself on this mission. His determination and strong will reminded Athos somewhat of himself, although Athos had learned the consequences of being headstrong the hard way, and suspected that D'artagnan would soon do the same. He understood D'artagnan's need to finish this mission on his own, although that didn't stop him from being increasingly concerned for the boy's physical state.

D'artagnan felt like he was floating. The various aches and pains from all over his body had slowly faded. He knew that this was not a good thing, but could only feel grateful for the all- encompassing need to sleep that was invading his body. However, he kept walking, knowing that the musketeers would think him weak were he to swoon like a maiden in front of them.

Soon, the four men reached the light at the end of the tunnel. Aramis especially had found this trip difficult, wanting nothing more than to stop the boy stumbling ahead of him and do a quick examination to ensure he was not seriously injured. He did not understand the Gascon's need to finish this alone, although he trusted Athos' word. The usually solemn man seemed to understand D'artagnan in a way he had never seen before, and in return D'artagnan sought Athos' approval above all else. This was the only reason Aramis hadn't grabbed the boy- he knew that his intervention would not be seen as the kind act he hoped it would be.

D'artagnan blinked at the light in surprise as he left the tunnel- it seemed like it had only been a few seconds since he entered it again. Or had it? Time had no meaning; there was no meaning to anything except from the pound of his heart and the steadily building ache that was forming in his head. Suddenly the light was too bright, too piercing, and he wished for nothing more than the tunnels he had been so desperate to escape from. Voices were speaking: they all blurred into one roar in his head. D'artagnan no longer had the strength to fight against the pull: the last thing he remembered was someone calling his name in an unexpectedly panicked voice, before everything went black.


	3. Gascon Stubbornness

**Thank you so much for all of your reviews, views and favourites! With this being my first fanfiction, I wasn't really expecting anyone to actually read it, let alone people actually wanting to come back and read more! Feel free to let me know anything I should be doing to improve, I really do appreocate any constructive criticism! Apologies if this chapter sees to be a bit of a filler, the next one will involve more hurt D'artagnan and hopefully some nice Athos/D'art moments, that really is my weakness!**

Athos had never been so glad to leave a place in his life- those tunnels seemed to have gone on for ever. His concern for the boy had increased as with each step D'artagnan seemed to shrink more into himself, until he was stumbling along, a hand wrapped around his torso. However, Athos' first-hand knowledge of pride had stopped him from interfering, knowing that when the boy was better he wold be deeply ashamed of himself were he to accept their help. This was a choice he instantly regretted however, as D'artagnan turned to face them in the light of day.

The Gascon's face was littered with small cuts and the beginning of an impressive black eye, but that was not what caused Athos to step forwards, a sharp "D'artagnan" forcing its way from his mouth. The boy's eyes were glazed over, and his skin had taken on a sickly pallor with a sheen of sweat covering his face. Athos knew what was going to happen, but he was rooted to the spot. As he watched, almost in slow motion, D'artagnan's eyes rolled back in his head and he sunk towards the ground, only to be caught in the strong arms of Porthos.

Aramis rushed over to where Porthos held D'artagnan, calling for him to wake up.

"That's not going to help" sighed Aramis "where he is, he won't be able to here you. Now, can I do what I've wanted to do for the last hour and actually check that he's not dying?" At this, he shot a glare in Athos' direction, but it softened when he saw that Athos' impassive mask had slipped, showing the raw guilt and shock behind.

"Athos" the medic called "Come over here, I need your help."

Athos started, and using a trick it had taken him years to master, pulled his emotions in check and strode over: panicking would not help D'artagnan now.

"Hold his head for me: he probably passed out due to lack of water" mused Aramis, unscrewing a flask. However, just as he was about to try and give the boy a drink, D'artagnan groaned.

"D'artagnan?" called Aramis, he watched as the Gascon struggled to open tired eyes.

"Don't worry about opening your eyes, could you just drink this for me please?" Aramis said as he poured a measure of water into D'artagnan's mouth. As expected, the Gascon drank greedily, but the medic pulled the flask away quickly, knowing that too much water at once could be potentially fatal.

D'artagnan felt the strength of the water surging through him, and forced his eyes open. His headache spiked, and before he could stop it, a pained whimper forced its way from his mouth.

"Headache?" Porthos asked sympathetically, thinking about the terrible headaches he got when he indulged too much in the tavern.

"I'm fine" D'artagnan said predictably, already hated himself for the weakness he had shown in front of these men. Thinking of this, he sat up, and ignoring the sound of protest from Aramis got to his feet.

"You really shouldn't be up yet, you were unconscious in case you hadn't noticed" Aramis fretted, wandering what other injuries the boy was hiding. Headaches were common with dehydration, but looking at the lines on D'artagnan's face, the medic could tell his headache was far too severe to have been brought up by a mere lack of water.

"I'm fine" Porthos and D'artagnan chorused together, the latter looking at the former in surprise as the other two musketeers fought to control their amusement.

"I'm going back to Bonacieux's house for a bath and change of clothes; I'll meet you back at the garrison?" The words slipped from D'artagnan's mouth, and he congratulated himself on them: he could tidy himself up and hopefully the world will have stopped spinning and whoever was knocking a hole in his skull would have stopped before he saw the musketeers again. Aramis narrowed his eyes at D'artagnan's suggestion.

"I'm not sure you should be going off alone just yet, you've been through quite an ordeal" Aramis countered, giving D'artagnan an up- and- down glance.

"So you keep reminding me- you can't stop me!" The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, ad D'artagnan winced at their childish nature. Before he could embarrass himself further, he turned and left the men behind.

The three musketeers glanced at each other in silent agreement: Athos waited until D'artagnan was out of sight before subtly following, as Aramis and Porthos went to the garrison to ensure Aramis had all of the medical supplies he knew he would soon need.


	4. The Wait

**Author's Note:**

 **Thank you to everyone for your lovely reviews follows and favourites- this chapter explores the relationships between the characters- I was quite pleased with it so hopefully you will be too! Just a heads up, not sure if there will be a chapter tomorrow as life is pretty busy, but I will try and make time to write it and get it up**

Athos followed D'artagnan for a few minutes, watching as his gait became more unsteady and his arm wrapped more tightly around his torso, as if he were trying to hold himself together. It was only when he staggered into a fruit stall, causing the vendor to swear angrily at him, that Athos decided that D'artagnan's life was more important than his pride, and decided to step in.

In a few strides he had caught up with the boy, and would have laughed at the stubborn look sent his way if not for the physical state the lad was in. With an expression on his face that allowed no argument, although it did incur a great deal of glaring, Athos slung D'artagnan's arm over his shoulder and began walking him in the direction is the garrison, worrying more than he let on about the fact that not only had D'artagnan not kicked up a fuss, he hadn't said anything. In fact, he was so silent Athos couldn't even hear him breathing.

"You still alive?" he deadpanned, trying to keep the atmosphere jovial: honestly, Aramis was much better at distracting injured men than he was.

"I'm just about hanging in there" replied D'artagnan, in a voice that sounded less sarcastic and more breathless than he had hoped for. Athos frowned, a suspicion forming in his mind- he may not be a medic, but he had spent enough time with injured men to know the signs of broken ribs when he saw them. Rather than asking any more questions and increasing the pain he knew D'artagnan was in, Athos merely continued their slow shuffle towards the garrison, praying that Aramis had apprehended that D'artagnan may have been more injured than he had let on.

One quick trip to the infirmary later, and Aramis and Porthos had laid out everything they could possibly need for when D'artagnan returned. Porthos noticed a frown line forming on Aramis' face and knew something must be wrong- the medic didn't like to frown, lest it lead to wrinkles later on in life.

"What's wrong?" Porthos questioned, watching as Aramis started and his face relaxed into a smile

"Mon ami, sometimes I reckon you can read my mind. I was merely trying to work out how D'artagnan could have sustained injuries that fitted in with how he was acting- he must have been too close to that explosion for comfort" Aramis fretted.

Porthos internally smiled: Aramis would always deny it, but he was such a mother hen when it came to any of them being injured. He reckoned that this went back to Savoy- the medic hadn't been able to save anyone then, and the memories of all of his fallen comrades still haunted him. Now, any time any of his brothers were injured, he fussed over them, no matter how insignificant the injury. Clearly Aramis' protective instincts occurred because he was terrified that he would not be able to save his brothers if they did get injured, just like he couldn't save his brothers in Savoy.

Porthos started: he had just included D'artagnan in their brotherhood. True, the boy had not been with them long, but he showed promise and as Athos put it, could indeed be the finest of them all one day. However, this was not what set him apart from all the other recruits Porthos had seen come through the Garrison. It had only been a few months since D'artagnan had charged through those gates demanding a duel, but in those months, Porthos had seen a remarkable change in Athos' character and attitude. D'artagnan gave him purpose again- to train one so like himself (and although Athos would never admit it, he and D'artagnan were remarkably alike) meant Athos could hopefully ensure that D'artagnan did not make the same mistakes that he had. His fondness of the boy was more than reciprocated- the Gascon respected Athos above all else and would most certainly die for him. The bond of brotherhood had been created between them, even though D'artagnan was not yet a musketeer.

While Porthos mused over how D'artagnan had infiltrated their previously impregnable group so easily, Aramis had wandered outside to sit at their usual table to wait for Athos and D'artagnan to return. He tried to quell the uneasy feeling in his stomach as the minutes ticked past and still the two men did not return, but to no avail. Therefore, when Porthos returned to the courtyard, it was to see a clearly pent up medic pacing in a small circle.

"Hey" called Porthos. "Come and eat something, you'll be no use to D'artagnan hungry"

"How can you even think of eating right now?" Aramis snapped. "They should have been back by now, what if something's happened?"

Porthos nodded to Serge, who brought over two bowls of broth with a sympathetic smile- by now, the whole garrison knew what was going on.

"I'm always hungry" Porthos covered his unease with a grin. "Come on, wearing a hole in the ground isn't gonna help anything".

With a sigh Aramis conceded, slumping at the table. He was just about to have a mouthful when the sound of heavy footsteps caused him to look up.

Seconds later, the table was deserted and the soup sat forgotten.


	5. Chapter 5

**See, I got it up in time! Sorry the end is quite abrupt; I simply ran out of time and couldn't write anymore! Hope you all like the new chapter! Helensg, you actually made me change my mind on where this chapter was going thanks to your reviews, really hope you like it!**

Athos' concern for D'artagnan was mounting with each step. The boy had gone from making witty comments, as if he could sense Athos' worry and was trying to dissipate it, to deathly silence. Athos had gone from just helping D'artagnan to walk to practically carrying him. Aramis was going to be furious at him for letting the Gascon do his own thing, yet Athos understood that an important part of a first mission was to finish it alone.

Just as they passed the local tavern, a group of red guards spilled out- they'd clearly been drinking. Athos cursed under his breath. Could things get any worse than they already were?

Apparently they could.

One of the red guards caught sight of Athos and D'artagnan, and smirking at the obvious poor condition of the boy, sauntered over.

"Well, well, well" he drawled "Looks like the musketeers' pet isn't feeling too bright right now. What happened, did you cut yourself on one of their sharp swords?"

D'artagnan felt a surge of anger and adrenaline at his words: pushing Athos away he stood in front of the smirking Red Guard.

"Say that again" he whispered in a voice that he hoped sounded menacing, although he realised that it probably had quite the opposite effect when the Red Guards burst out laughing and enclosed Athos and D'artagnan in a circle.

Athos would usually let D'artagnan fight his own battles, but this was an exceptional circumstance. He reckoned D'artagnan was still standing through sheer force of will, so would be pretty much useless in a fight, especially against half a dozen Red Guard.

"I shall give you one chance to leave monsieurs, before we teach you a lesson you will never forget" Athos suggested impassively, watching as the Red Guard laughed amongst themselves and unsheathed their swords.

"So be it" Athos said as he too unsheathed his main gauche. He felt, rather than saw, D'artagnan do the same thing beside him, and the fight commenced.

The fog of pain had lifted, and D'artagnan could see clearly again. He could see the Red Guard lunging at him with his sword, could feel the breeze on his hair as he dodged the attack, could hear Athos taunting the man he was engaged with.

"You just can't go anywhere without them, can you?" laughed the Red Guard. "Do they feel sorry for you because you have no family, no one who cares for you, or do they just feel like they can't shake you off? Those three men are the inseparables- you don't fit in with them"

The words stung D'artagnan like a physical blow- he didn't want to hear anymore. With a roar, he lunged at the man, missed and felt a sharp sting of pain slice across his ribs. The duel continued for a couple of minutes before D'artagnan finally got the upper hand and feinted one way before stabbing the man in the gut. There would almost certainly be consequences, but he couldn't have finished the fight without killing the man, and right now he didn't care about any repercussions.

The Gascon pulled his main gauche out of the body and turned, expecting to face another red Guard, only to find that Athos had finished them all off and was standing, as impassive as ever, watching D'artagnan.

"I keep telling you, head over heart. I saw him taunt you; saw how you recklessly opened up to him. We'll need to work on that" he told his protégée. "Let's get back to the garrison before Aramis gives himself heart failure".

The two men turned and started to make their way back to the Garrison, but after only a few steps Athos sensed that he was walking alone. He turned and saw D'artagnan had fallen to his knees by the Red Guard he had slain.

Athos walked back to him and saw that the boy was simply too exhausted and injured to stand. However, there was no way for them both to get back to the Garrison unless they walked- there was only one path open to Athos and he hated himself for it.

"You must learn to conquer pain- a true musketeer will continue on through mortal wounds. If you can't even manage a simple walk with a few minor injuries, I doubt that you are ready to join us" Athos said, allowing disappointment to grace his tone. Internally, he was furious with himself for the hurt and anger he saw in D'artagnan's eyes, but his words had the desired effect; the Gascon's fiery determination was back, and he made an attempt to climb to his feet.

"I didn't realise that you were so weak- I thought you were better than this" Athos goaded, giving D'artagnan a hand up, only to bite back a hiss at the pain in his shoulder from a stab wound he was doing his best to ignore.

It was an indicator of how much pain D'artagnan was in that his didn't notice the blossoming patch of red on Athos' doublet, but the swordsman was glad of it. He didn't want sympathy: he knew how to forget about pain, and being reminded of it would only make it worse. He had but one task in mind at the moment, and that was to get D'artagnan back to the Garrison. With this in mind, he slung D'artagnan's arm over his shoulder and the two continued on their journey back to the Garrison.

"We leave you alone for _two_ seconds- what in God's name happened?" cried Aramis, appalled at the state of the two men. Athos had basically carried a half conscious D'artagnan into the Garrison, the man's faced lined with pain which probably had something to do with the red stain on his shirt. D'artagnan looked in even worse shape than before- there was a new slice cutting through the leather of his jacket, and his skin had taken on a greenish tinge.

"Right, infirmary- now" Aramis instructed "Porthos, take D'artagnan".

Porthos have dragged, half carried the semi- conscious Gascon into the infirmary, Aramis and Athos trailing behind.

"Red Guard" Athos answered Aramis' silent question. "goaded us into a fight, D'artagnan wasn't in the best shape for fighting so I took the brunt of it". The unspoken "I wasn't going to let him get injured again" hung between them.


	6. Similarities

**Hi! Sorry about the lack of a chapter yesterday, I just didn't have time to write it! I have learned a valuable lesson from this fanfiction- I should always finish stories before I start uploading, or at least be several chapters ahead so I never miss a day- again very sorry about that! Hope this chapter makes up for it- it really took some writing but I hope it's worth it!**

Porthos half carried the stubbornly conscious Gascon into the infirmary and guided him over to a bed. As soon as he got there, D'artagnan's legs gave out and he unceremoniously collapsed onto the pillows. Porthos snorted, barely hiding the concern in his voice.

"Bit tired whelp?" he chuckled, helping D'artagnan turn over so he wasn't face down in the pillows, pretending he didn't notice the pained gasp that fell from the boy's mouth as he brushed over his ribcage.

"So would you be if you'd just nearly died twice" D'artagnan slurred, so exhausted and pain ridden that he didn't even know what he was saying.

Porthos frowned: twice? There was definitely more to this whole Vadim thing than D'artagnan was letting on. This couldn't wait- he needed to know exactly how much danger his brother had been in and who he could get revenge on. Porthos was just opening his mouth to ask exactly what he happened when Aramis burst into the room, complaining at Athos for refusing to let him help him. Athos trailed behind, head down but stubbornly refusing help. Porthos grinned- the swordsman genuinely had no idea how similar his behaviour was to another young man sitting on one of the beds.

"No" D'artagnan insisted as Aramis want to examine him. "Sort Athos out first, I think he got injured in the fight"

"Not a chance" Athos replied, glaring at D'artagnan. "I can wait"

"It's all well and good saying that until you bleed out all over the floor" D'artagnan snapped. "I am not bleeding; therefore I am not the priority."

"He's right Athos" Aramis interjected, moving Athos' shirt aside so he could see the still bleeding wound.

Athos glared, but let Aramis continue his probing, flinching occasionally as Aramis brushed against tender flesh.

"This'll need stitching" Aramis stated, internally cringing at the murderous look in Athos' face- he could tell that the swordsman was angry that he was taking up the medic's time, when it should have been spent on D'artagnan.

D'artagnan saw the glare on Athos' face and knew it was meant for him: if he had been paying more attention and taken on more men, Athos wouldn't have got injured. The wound was by no means life threatening, but it was cause the swordsman pain for several weeks, and he would not be able to train for just as long. Coupled with the man's harsh words on how he was not suited to the life of musketeer, D'artagnan could tell that Athos was deeply disappointed in him. He thought the two of them had shared a bond, that Athos understood him in a way that no one else ever had even in the few short months that they known each other, but he was clearly wrong. Athos was pain now, and it was his fault.

Aramis finished tying off the last stitch and smiled at Athos, who was currently drinking the alcohol Aramis had cleaned the wound with, lines of pain around his face.

"You might want to sleep now, you lost a fair amount of blood" Aramis gently suggested, already knowing what the response would be before he said it.

"I'll rest once you've sorted out D'artagnan" Athos replied, looking up at the boy, only to frown in confusion as the boy quickly glanced away.

"I knew you'd say that" sighed Aramis, helping D'artagnan pull off his shirt.

Porthos and Aramis gasped at the sight that met them. Dark bruising littered the Gascon's torso, and his wrists were shredded and torn. His boots were ripped and his feet were covered in small cuts and burns. To cap it all, there was a slight indentation on the boy's ribcage that suggested the broken ribs Athos had suspected were a reality.

"Mon Dieu" whispered Aramis with admiration "How on Earth did you manage to stay on your feet?" D'artagnan's determination had surprised him before, but he didn't even think Athos could stay on his feet with injuries as severe as this, and this was without even properly checking the Gascon to make sure there were no more severe injuries.

Athos' reaction was somewhat different. "Why in God's name didn't you mention this D'artagnan? Do you insist on being stubborn to the point that you put your life at risk?" he hissed, before stalking out of the room, leaving silence in his wake.

D'artagnan jumped up in an attempt to head after Athos, only to cry out as pain jolted through his entire body. He vaguely felt Aramis' hands on him, laying him back down on the bed and muttering something as he tried to breathe through the pain. A few moments later, he was able to open his eyes, only to find Porthos was gone.

"Where's Porthos?" he gasped, trying to draw breath into his already painful lungs.

"Gone to get Athos back- let's make sure you look better for when he gets here, hmm?" Aramis responded, getting to work to clean up the various cuts on D'artagnan's body. The Gascon winced at the sharp pains as Aramis cleaned him up and bandaged his ribs, but managed not to cry out. Athos' words formed a mantra as Aramis cleaned and stitched the wound of his head: " _You must learn to conquer pain, you must learn to conquer pain"_ travelled round and round his head as Aramis moved onto his wrists. There was little the medic could do, other than pour a generous amount of alcohol over the torn flesh and hope that this would prevent infection, and bind them. However, this proved to be the final straw for D'artagnan. Pain tore its way through his body as Aramis poured the alcohol over the torn skin. Everything first went white, and D'artagnan heard a faint buzzing, as if someone was trying to talk to him, and then everything went black.

Athos entered the room again just in time to see Aramis pour some wine over D'artagnan's mutilated wrists. To his horror, he watched as the Gascon bucked upwards, a strangled gasp tearing its way from his mouth.

"D'artagnan?" he said, rushing over to where the boy lay, fighting to stay conscious. "It's alright D'artagnan, let go. We can talk when you wake" he whispered, watching as the boy's face went lax. "We'll talk when you wake" he repeated to himself.


	7. Doubt

**Sorry this is a bit late- but it is up on the right day! We've got some Athos/D'art moments in here, it made me happy so hopefully it will you too** **not sure how much I've got left to write, but I think we're nearing a conclusion! As always, thank you for the reviews, favourite and follows- I really do appreciate it!**

Aramis and Porthos had long since left Athos and D'artagnan, promising that they would be back once they got off duty- Treville had not been able to give them any time off due to a group of musketeers being away on a mission. Athos, however, had a legitimate reason to stay in the infirmary, but the other musketeers knew that even if it were not for his shoulder wound, he would not be leaving D'artagnan's side.

It steadily grew darker outside, but still Athos remained by D'artagnan's bed. He knew that when the Gascon woke up, he would want Athos to be with him to explain why he had treated the boy the way he had.

Eventually, Aramis came back to check on how both of them were faring, refusing to leave until Athos had got some rest.

"He'll be fine Athos- fine enough for you to get some sleep. How do you think he'll feel if he wakes up and finds you, pale and tired because you've worn yourself out watching over him?" Aramis reasoned while tying off a clean bandage on Athos' arm. "I've changed his bandages and re-wrapped his ribs, there's nothing any of us can do for him until he wakes" he smiled as Athos conceded, lying down on the bed closest to D'artagnan. Aramis finished re-dressing D'artagnan's feet and quietly left the room, smiling at the fact that Athos' breathing had already evened out into sleep.

Athos had always slept lightly- as a solider, he had to be ready for anything. Therefore, when a slight whimper came from the adjacent bed, his eyes snapped open. Momentarily confused as to where he was, the swordsman lay still until he heard the sound again.

Athos leapt out of bed, only to see D'artagnan thrashing around, a sheen of sweat coating his forehead. A pitiful "Athos" fell from his mouth, which was all the invitation Athos needed.

"D'artagnan" he called, going to shake the boy but pausing, as he didn't want to cause any more damage to the already battered Gascon. The boy refused to wake, twisting in his sheets, his face contorted in what looked like physical and emotional pain.

"D'ARTAGNAN"

 _Pain flared through his wrists, yet D'artagnan kept pulling at the bonds. The spark was travelling closer and closer, but he couldn't get out of these damn ties. However, the Gascon was determined- he would rip his own hands off in order to stop the gunpowder from killing whoever Vadim wanted to kill- he would not fail his king, country or friends. Panic began to build as the spark travelled closer- everything blurred into one, and the room turned grey._

 _Suddenly, D'artagnan was running for his life- the explosion was going to go off. He'd done his best, but it wasn't enough. Rounding a corner, he crashed into Athos._

" _We've got to go, Athos- this whole place is going to be blown to smithereens any second!" he cried desperately, looking in confusion into Athos' expressionless face._

" _I doubt you're ready to join us" the Musketeer said, disappointment evident in his tone. "I thought you were better than this."_

 _The words stung D'artagnan like a physical blow: he reeled backwards, watching in horror as a wound in Athos' shoulder opened up and blood began pouring out._

" _This happened because of you" the swordsman whispered, looking D'artagnan straight in the eye. "You don't fit with us, you're just a weakness"._

 _D'artagnan had heard enough- he turned and raced away, hearing Athos call him back._

" _D'ARTAGNAN!"_

D'artagnan's eyes shot open: he gasped, trying to pull air into his tightly bound ribs.

"D'artagnan" Athos repeated "You're alright, it was just a dream". His words had no effect on the boy, who continued to gasp, his face scrunched up in pain as every breath sawed through his ribcage.

"D'artagnan" Athos said again, a sharp tone entering his voice. The boy looked up, something akin to fear alighting in his eyes. Athos sighed, trying to lighten up his tone now he had the Gascon's attention.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Athos asked, watching as D'artagnan slowly shook his head, turning back over onto his other side, a barely audible "sorry" coming from his mouth.

"You have nothing to be sorry for" Athos tried to reassure the boy. "We all have our weaknesses; it's nothing to be ashamed of". To his surprise, his words did not have the effect he had hoped for.

"You think I'm weak?" D'artagnan whispered, his back still turned.

"No" Athos said- he really wasn't good at expressing himself. "I merely meant that it is alright to feel vulnerable, especially when our friends are nearby" he said softly, hoping that D'artagnan would understand the sentiment he couldn't express.

Unfortunately the Gascon didn't. "I know I'm a burden" he whispered. "You don't have to remind me, nor do you have to be here- I'd rather you weren't to be honest."

Athos opened his mouth, but his taciturn character meant that he had no idea what to say in return. D'artagnan seemed to take his silence as a corroboration of something, and turned to face the musketeer.

"I know I'm a disappointment- I understand that by being able to swing a sword you thought I could be one of you. I know that you have invested time into a simple farm boy who is not worthy of your tutorship, and I'm sorry for that. Hopefully you will be able to find a protégée who actually has natural talent and the ability to become a musketeer- I'm just sorry that I allowed myself to delude the both of us for such a long time- I could never be one of you" D'artagnan whispered.

Athos was rooted to the spot- how on Earth was he supposed to answer that? The boy was clearly delirious; perhaps he should find Aramis? But before he could tell D'artagnan to get some rest, the boy had leapt to his feet, grimacing as his various pains made themselves known.

"I'm sorry" the boy whispered again, running out of the room as Athos called his name behind him.

It was just like the dream, only this was real life. Athos had made it pretty clear- he was not going to invest any more time in a useless case.


	8. Grave Mistake

**Hi everyone! So sorry about the lack of a chapter yesterday, I know, I'm terrible** **hope you like this one though, left it on a bit of a cliffie though, don't kill me! *holds up hands and slowly backs away***

D'artagnan rushed through the deserted Paris streets, tears blurring his vision. He angrily brushed them away- it would not do for him to invest any more time and emotion into the Musketeers. It had been what his father had wanted for him, and what he wanted for himself, but he just couldn't do it. Athos had made that perfectly clear.

There was only one place suitable for a farm boy now, and that was the farm he came from. It was a perfect dream, but there were matters that needed attending to. His father had died, leaving a farm that needed looking after, and only D'artagnan could do that. However, there was somewhere he had to go, to say goodbye to, before he left Paris for good. 

Athos stood and listened to the sound of D'artagnan's feet pounding down the stairs, shell shocked. The swordsman was not used to expressing himself, so in turn was not used to having people pour their hearts out in front of him. Aramis and Porthos were his closest friends, yet they understood each other in a way that words were not needed.

Perhaps it was a good thing that D'artagnan was gone. Athos did not like opening himself up to anyone, yet in the last few months he had let D'artagnan see more than Aramis and Porthos ever had. The boy was not just his protégée, but his friend- his brother.

Since Thomas had died, there had been a void in Athos' life that couldn't be filled. However, when D'artagnan was around, that hole didn't seem as large or painful. From the moment the Gascon had charged into the Garrison, Athos' life had changed. D'artagnan brought out the best of him- tutoring him had given him something to focus on that was not his dead wife and brother. However, D'artagnan was more than a distraction, he was his brother, and Athos didn't let anything happen to his brothers.

The swordman's eyes alighted on D'artagnan's shoes and jacket- the boy had left in such a hurry that he hadn't picked them up. Athos' mind was made up. He wouldn't let his brother suffer for his own selfish purposes. 

D'artagnan's world had shrunk to the pain in his feet and ribs- but this was dwarfed by the pain in his heart. Once Athos' name had been cleared, just a few short months ago, the four men had gone to retrieve D'artagnan's father's body. Since Gascony was too far for him to visit often, they had instead laid him to rest in a small church on the outskirts of Paris. D'artagnan had chosen it for the view- the graveyard overlooked the rolling hills and countryside, which D'artagnan knew his father would like- he could take his father away from the farm, but he couldn't take the farm out of his father.

The Gascon fell to his knees besides his father's grave, and looked out towards the view. It was dark- he couldn't even see the furthest grave.

Kneeling by his father's grave, D'artagnan let the grief that had been slowly building up for the last few days overflow. Sobbing uncontrollably, he slowly pitched forwards until he was lying on the ground. Part of him registered that it was cold, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

The Gascon sobbed until there was nothing left. He realised that he should probably get up and move, but the ground was so warm and invited, and he was so tired. D'artagnan sighed, and gave in to the encroaching darkness clouding his vision.

Athos didn't allow himself to think about where D'artagnan had gone, choosing instead to follow his feet, and just this once, his heart. As he walked through the Parisian streets, he tried not to think about what condition the boy would be in when he found him, choosing instead to focus on the fact that the boy needed new boots, as these ones had been ruined in the blast. Still they were better than what D'artagnan had at the moment- he must be in so much pa-

Athos mentally shook himself- he was usually so much better in keeping his emotions in check than this. Yet he worried about D'artagnan in a way that he hadn't worried since Thomas was alive. D'artagnan certainly wasn't a replacement- no one could ever replace Thomas- but he certainly reminded Athos of his little brother in so many ways. His hot- headedness was the main similarity between them, a trait that Athos was trying to tutor the boy out of. Was this because Thomas' ability to follow his heart may have been what got him killed? Thomas may not have tried to force himself on Anne, she was a cold blooded murderer, but he must have done something for her to incur her wrath on him. It was almost like D'artagnan was a second chance for Athos- if he could teach him to use his head rather than following his heart, he could prevent him from meeting the same fate at Thomas had.

So caught up in his musings, Athos noticed he had reached the goal he hadn't even been trying to ge to- the church where they had buried D'artagnan's father. Athos was certain the boy was here- pushing the gate open and striding over to Alexandre D'artagnan's grave, he realised he was, before wishing that he wasn't.

D'artagnan was lying face down on his father's grave, and even in the dark, the tear tracks on his cheeks were evident. Athos tentatively reached out to feel the boy's hand, only to reel back in horror when he felt how deathly cold it was.


	9. The Conversation

**Hello everyone! Wow, can't believe we've got to over 50 reviews- this is crazy! I know I say this every chapter, but thank you all so much for the support, means I'll get started on the next story as soon as this one is finished! There's a Merlin reference in this, for anyone who watches the show- a prize for anyone who can spot it :D**

For a moment, the breath caught in Athos' throat, before he checked the boy's pulse, to find it steadily thrumming.

"D'artagnan?" called Athos "Can you wake up for me?"

The Gascon groaned, his eyes opening to blearily gaze into Athos' concerned gaze.

"Cold" muttered D'artagnan, his whole frame shaking at the realisation that he was outside in the middle of winter.

Athos wasted no time in helping D'artagnan sit up, giving him his boots and jacket to put on, before taking off his cloak and draping it around the boy's shaking form.

"Thank you" D'artagnan whispered "you can go now, I'm not going to freeze to death"

Athos knelt down by the shivering boy "And why would I do that, I am going to want that cloak back at some point" he deadpanned.

D'artagnan looked away. "You may as well take it now" he said "I'm not coming back".

"Do you not think you owe us all an explanation?" Athos asked, before realising that probably wasn't the best thing to say.

D'artagnan looked at him, defiance dancing in his eyes. "I owe you nothing" he snapped. At the warning look in Athos' eyes, he deflated.

"I'm sorry, Athos. But I've let you all down. You're clearly disappointed in me- I'm sure Aramis, Porthos and Treville all are as well."

"Where did you get that idea from?" Athos said, working hard to soften his tone. "For a first mission, you did an exceptional job. Vadim is dead, is he not? It is not good to dwell on self- deprecating thoughts- musketeers have to have thicker skins than this".

"Why do you always do this?" D'artagnan cried. "I know that I'm your protégée, but you lecture me like I am a child. I know that I need a thick skin, and I do usually have one. My father just died, Athos. Give me some time."

"Do you really want to know why I am hard on you?" Athos asked. "I do not let anything happen to my brothers. If I can do anything to prevent anything happening to you, I will do it. I cannot lose another brother, D'artagnan. So this is the only time you will ever hear me say this, and I will happily kill you if you tell Aramis and Porthos- but I care about you, and I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you."

"Thank you" D'artagnan said simply, although Athos understood the sentiment behind his words. "Do you think he'd be proud of me?" he asked, looking wistfully at his father's grave.

"Undoubtedly" Athos said firmly, moving closer to D'artagnan in the hope that the Gascon would accept the support the usually taciturn man was offering him.

The two men sat shoulder to shoulder in companionable silence, watching as the first rays of dawn lit up the horizon.

"It's a new day" Athos stated, knowing D'artagnan would understand what he was trying to say.

Aramis stormed through the Garrison towards the table that Porthos sat at, shovelling breakfast into his mouth as if he were a starving man.

"They're gone!" he shouted, pushing aside Porthos' bowl.

"Who have?" Porthos asked confused: he was always a bit slow in the morning.

"Athos and D'artagnan!" Amaris cried "I went to check on them to find empty beds! Neither of them, especially D'artagnan with those feet, are in a position to be moving around- why does nobody ever listen to me? He huffed, narrowing his eyes at Porthos as he smirked.

"They can look after themselves, I think they're old enough Aramis" Porthos chuckled, abruptly stopping at the furious look on Aramis face.

"They're _injured,_ Porthos. I am not angry because they've gone out alone, I am merely concerned for their wellbeing" Aramis snapped. "We've got to go and find them!"

Porthos wistfully gazed at the remnants of his breakfast, before catching Aramis' eye and hurriedly getting up.

Athos glanced at D'artagnan once the Sun had fully risen, startled to see that his lips had a slight blue tinge to them.

"Are you alright?" he asked, concern bleeding into his tone. D'artagnan stayed silent for a few moments.

"If you aren't disappointed in me, why did you say you were just after you were stabbed?" D'artagnan asked, a vulnerable note evident in his voice.

"I was playing you at your own game, D'artagnan" Athos replied. "You were clearly too exhausted to stand, let alone walk with me back to the Garrison- by making you angry, I gave you the adrenaline you needed to get back" he explained. "I know I'm usually drumming into you that your head should rule your heart, but I think that in this case, it was raw emotion that got you home."

"So are you admitting that you were actually wrong?" D'artagnan asked cheekily.

"I am never wrong D'artagnan, merely mistaken on occasion" Athos replied sternly, a touch of amusement in his tone that brought a smile to D'artagnan's face.

"We should probably head back, Aramis has probably had a heart attack by now" Athos said, watching as D'artagnan's lips twisted up in a wry smile not dissimilar to his own. Athos rose somewhat stiffly and offered D'artagnan his hand. Yesterday, he knew the boy would have declined it, but today was different. D'artagnan accepted the support the swordsman was offering him, and the two men left the graveyard, the weak winter sun beating down on them.


	10. Promises

**So, so sorry this took such a long time to get up! But hey, it's here now** **this is also the last chapter, but I do have plans for a sequel if anyone is interested? Let me know! But anyway, thank you so much for all of the support for this fanfiction; it really did blow me away! I've really enjoyed writing it, even if one chapter a day was a bit ambitious- but thank you all for staying with me!**

 **And by the way, for Debbie and anyone else who was wondering, the Merlin reference was when Athos said "It's a new day"- that was from Series 4, Episode 3, just after Uther died, and Arthur came out of the Great hall and told merlin it was a new day** **Anyway, enough rambling- enjoy!**

Porthos and Aramis had been looking for Athos and D'artagnan for hours- they had no idea where else to look. They'd tried Bonacieux's house and all of the taverns and were now aimlessly wondering around the streets, hoping they were going to miraculously bump into the two men.

"They really shouldn't have been out this long" Aramis fretted, a frown etched into his forehead.

"Careful 'Mis" Porthos chuckled "you'll be left with a wrinkle on your head if you're not careful"

"Well at least then I'd be ruggedly handsome" Aramis quipped "I'll blame those two if they do give me wrinkles, they're taking years off my life with their stubbornness"

Porthos roared with laughter, while Aramis looked on confused: he had no idea how much of a mother hen he sounded like.

Porthos' laughter was abruptly cut off as two men stumbled around the corner and headed towards them.

Athos' concern for D'artagnan was rising again: the boy was leaning more and more heavily on the swordsman with each step.

"Nearly there, D'artagnan- we'll have you back to Aramis and on bed rest for a week" he joked, frowning as D'artagnan groaned.

"Alright?" he asked, watching as the Gascon smiled at his concern.

"I'm fine, just wondering what Aramis is going to do to us when we get back" he joked. He choked with laughter at the look on Athos' face, before cutting it off with a wince of pain.

Athos said nothing, subtly walking a little faster to get D'artagnan back to Aramis. The man may be unbearably smothering when one of them was injured, but he knew it was what D'artagnan needed emotionally and physically- the boy needed to feel loved and cared for, and Aramis would definitely do that. Athos was just slightly worried that D'artagnan would not make it that far- the boy had fallen silent, and Athos could hear pained gasps falling from his mouth at certain intervals.

Although not strongly religious- who could be with luck such as his- Athos sent up a prayer, hoping that Porthos and Aramis were out looking for them.

It seemed that God was smiling down on them, Athos thought wryly as he turned the corner to see two very welcome men.

Aramis and Porthos rushed over to the two men, the former muttering about how he'd almost had a heart attack and how they were _never_ to do anything like that again.

"Sorry" Athos said "D'artagnan had some unfinished business".

Aramis frowned, and was just opening his mouth to ask what Athos meant before he was distracted by D'artagnan's knees giving out. The medic just about managed to catch the boy before he hit the ground.

"D'artagnan?" he asked, smiling fondly when the boy muttered "I'm fine"

"Of course you are" Aramis laughed "Come on, let's get you home and you can sleep".

D'artangnan seemed to perk up at the idea of going home: Aramis' choice of words had surprised him. He thought that since his father had died, he had no home- he was merely using other people's kindness until that too ran out. However, the fact that Aramis had suggested he had a home with the Musketeers gave him an inexplicable feeling of belonging that propelled him to his feet, leaning heavily on Aramis.

"My place is closest" Athos said "We'll take him there". A slight smirk crossed his face at the look of shock on D'artagnan's face.

"Are you sure?" the boy stuttered "I can make it back to the Garrison or Bonacieux's if you'd rather"

"I think I cleaned the alcohol off the floor and removed the empty bottles last night, it should be fairly tidy" Athos deadpanned, sharing an inside glance with the other two men as D'artagnan looked up in horror "I hope that will suffice- my house is not too much of a hovel for you to enter" he said, trying not to crack a smile at Aramis' and Porthos' silent laughter.

"No, no!" D'artagnan hastened to say "I was not saying that your house wasn't suitable, merely expressing surprise that you would invite me" D'artagnan said, a hint of panic in his voice that caused Porthos to roar with laughter.

"He's pulling your leg, D'artagnan" Aramis explained, guiding the Gascon in the direction of Athos' home.

D'artagnan was not in any state to judge Athos' home when they arrived- he was holding onto consciousness by mere stubbornness. Aramis gently helped him lie on the bed, watching in amusement as the boy's eyes fluttered closed.

"Hold on a second, D'artagnan- I just want to check your little trip hasn't caused any lasting damage" he explained.

After re-binding D'artagnan's ribs and feet, Aramis concluded that shockingly, D'artagnan was in no worse shape than before, but was simply exhausted from the pain of his injuries and very little sleep. He handed D'artagnan a sleep draught from the bag he had taken with him when they had gone looking for the two men, glad that he had had the foresight to think of bringing it.

D'artagnan seemed to be very hesitant to take the medicine, choosing instead to study his hands. Aramis frowned at Athos: did he know why the Gascon was so reluctant to take the medicine his body needed?

Apparently he did.

"We'll be here while you sleep, D'artagnan" Athos said softly. "After all, you're not kicking me out of my house- we'll wake you at the first signs of distress".

Ah, nightmares- now Aramis understood. Having suffered enough of them after Savoy, the medic knew the damage a restless night of being pursued by demons could do to one's mental state. He sympathised with the boy, but also knew what had to be done to get him through the rough patch.

"We'll all be here for you" he agreed with Athos. "You're our brother- we wouldn't let any harm come to you."

"That's right, whelp" Porthos chimed in. "Unluckily for you, you're stuck with us now" he chuckled, watching as a smile flashed across D'artagnan's face as he took the pain draught, quickly sliding into sleep.

And the three musketeers were there for him- they had promised to stay by their brother's side, and that is exactly what they did.


End file.
